


Circle 'round the Truth

by enviropony



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Character Study, Friendship, Gen, Magic Revealed, Serkets, runaway horses, squires in trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 03:43:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enviropony/pseuds/enviropony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They know about the magic. Or, more accurately, Merlin's magic is the truth the knights circle around, and Merlin's loyalty is the one 'round which they rally. (A character study with some yelling, an action sequence, and a bit of walking.) Post-S4. </p>
<p>Originally posted at merlin_canon fest on LJ, for prompt #17 by isisanubis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circle 'round the Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the folks on the paperpushers chat the weekend of March 10-11 for plot suggestions, stress relief and the mental image of Colin Morgan in Scorpius' creepy leather suit from Farscape. Harvey lives!

**Warnings:** OC death, grieving for a dead partner, injured animals, fantasy violence of the same caliber as seen on the show  
  
 **Disclaimer:** The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavor.

\- - -  
\- - -

Gwaine does not figure it out when they first meet, despite the bizarre behavior of Mary's plates. He doesn't catch on when he and Merlin follow Arthur into the Fisher King's lands, as he ignores the rather obvious clue the bridge-keeper provides. He doesn't put things together when he helps Arthur and Merlin retake Camelot, or at any point during the whole year they spend searching for signs of Morgana and Morgause.

He doesn't think it suspicious when Merlin survives his encounter with the Dorocha, though that should have been another blaringly obvious clue - 'no mortal man,' they'd been told. Gwaine doesn't ever really 'figure it out.' One day he just realizes that he's known for a while now, and he can't pinpoint the precise moment, or even the general circumstances, where his mind said, 'Oh, look. Merlin has magic.' It isn't even an act of magic on Merlin's part that illuminates things, but the way Arthur speaks of magic one morning at council - with the aggrieved, bitter air of one who has taken one's own suffering entirely out of proportion to reality.

Gwaine listens to Arthur bemoan the damage magic is causing to Camelot - though there doesn't seem to have been so much as a breath of magic about the place since Morgana and Helios were ousted - and thinks _I've seen magic do such beautiful things, Princess_ , and _Poor Merlin must be wishing for the ground to swallow him right now_. The second thought startles him, so he spends some time examining it, and comes to his realization: he knows Merlin has magic, and he's known for some time. It's as much a part of his picture of Merlin as the oversized kerchiefs and the open, amiable demeanor. Merlin's neck is always cold. Merlin is friendly. Merlin is hiding his magic.

It alters the way he treats Merlin. He doesn't think anyone notices, up until he has another realization: he's not the only one who knows. Elyan knows. Leon suspects, and pretends not to. Percival - well, who can tell, with Percival, but Gwaine's quite certain Percival won't betray Merlin, if he does learn. Tristan... Gwaine's not sure where Tristan's mind is, half the time, or how much he's noticing beyond the point of his sword and the edge of his grief, so he doesn't worry about Tristan.

Gwaine does his best to shield Merlin, and the only ones who don't notice are Arthur and, of course, Merlin.

\- - -

Elyan's cautious at first, when Gwaine starts to treat Merlin differently. It's subtle, for Gwaine, nothing anyone would see who isn't keeping an eye out, but Elyan _is_ , so he does. It shows up in little gestures, and in big ones: a frown when someone speaks against magic in front of Merlin, a loud, attention-drawing boast while Merlin's lighting a campfire, a nod instead of a smirk when Merlin says something unlikely but wise. Gwaine and Merlin have been fast friends from the start, from what Elyan's heard, though the closeness of their friendship seems to wax and wane oddly. Now, Elyan thinks, Gwaine's more invested, more determined to stand by Merlin's side.

Elyan approves. He still finds it hard to grasp, some days, what the Druid boy told him about Emrys, but he sees - he knows - the depth of Merlin's loyalty and love, and he believes without a doubt that Merlin's as deserving of protection as Arthur.

He's glad Gwaine's working off the same battle plan.

\- - -

Percy's pretty sure Merlin uses magic, but there's nothing he can swear to having heard or seen to prove it (even though he'd thought it very convenient how Arthur had just gone along with the suggestion to flee Camelot, all of a sudden, and Merlin's eyes had shined oddly in the torchlight). He'd long ago decided it didn't matter, one way or another, because if Merlin has magic, he's on their side and has been helping them all along. If he doesn't, then they are just one lucky, lucky bunch of bastards, and Percy's certainly not going to question _that_.

The important thing about Merlin is that he's loyal to Arthur, and to Camelot... or at least to the ultimate survival and wellbeing of Arthur and Camelot, even if that means ignoring some of Arthur's orders, questioning his judgment, and telling him flat-out lies (Percy had camped in a certain clearing a few years ago; he's sure he would have noticed a sword sticking out of the boulder on which he'd dried his trousers). Merlin is loyal, clever and more experienced - more world-weary - than he lets on. Few can see, beneath his earnest expression and perpetual good cheer, the determined set of his jaw and the sadness, the darkness, in his eyes. Even fewer can see his cold, proud confidence.

Percy's not certain if that confidence is aimed at Arthur, or if Merlin's just that sure of himself.

He thinks it's the latter.

\- - -

Leon's wondered about Merlin for years. The boy is foolish, jocular, and frequently insolent, but as devoted and loyal to Arthur as any of the knights. He acts the clumsy idiot, but it hadn't taken Leon long to realize that it's mostly a defense mechanism; the boy may know or respect little about courtly ways, but he's good at keeping the wrong sort of attention off himself.

Despite Merlin's sometimes-blatant use of magic, nobody suspects he's a sorcerer. He plays the incompetent too well, even when he's the most influential actor on stage.

Now, there _are_ people who know he's not a fool, and people who know that he's a magic user, but they aren't people who pose a danger to him. They are, in fact, the people most likely to help him in his continued efforts to keep Arthur and Camelot safe.

Leon's wondered about Merlin, because the boy - though he really is a man now - has powers that Leon can't quite comprehend, but chooses to remain in the background, not even as a puppet master, but simply as source of service and support to his king.

Part of Leon can't process this degree of humility and self-sacrifice, and scoffs at the sorcerer for it.

The other part of him thinks Merlin's the better man - the best man among them.

Leon lives, and will die, in service to his king and country, but he can not bear the thought of doing so without some acknowledgment of both his nobility and his honor. If he were in Merlin's shoes, he would have left Camelot years ago. He's come around to acknowledging that he is not the most loyal of Arthur's men.

Even before having admitted to this character flaw, Leon had decided that Merlin, despite breaking probably the most important law of Camelot, needed protection. He keeps a careful eye on the lad and his acquaintances, and makes note of if, when and how each of them learn of Merlin's magic.

Percival, he thinks, either doesn't know, or doesn't let on. He's always treated Merlin with kindness and fraternity, and Leon's never noticed a change in his attitude for better or worse. Even if he doesn't know, Leon's sure he won't betray Merlin if he should happen to find out.

Elyan... Elyan's been different since that Druid ghost possessed him, and though Leon doesn't know the details, he's sure Elyan learned or saw something in those confused days. The queen's brother is more protective of Merlin now, and more attentive. Pranks and jokes at Merlin's expense have declined, and some days there's a bit of awe in the way Elyan looks at the servant - as if he can't believe what he's seeing.

Gwaine's also been more ... adult, of late. Leon remembers the council meeting when he first noticed Gwaine wince and glance at Merlin when Arthur talked of magic with outraged passion. He's not sure what Gwaine saw or when exactly Gwaine learned of Merlin's powers, but the change in his behavior after that day had been almost immediate. Like Elyan, he's more protective of Merlin, and kinder in his jests. In keeping with his boorish nature, he's also quick to draw attention to himself if Merlin looks to need a diversion. He sticks close to Merlin - as close as he did when he first came to Camelot - as if to use the bluster of his personality to overshadow the hints of grace and puissance in Merlin's own.

Tristan is the only one of whom Leon's unsure. Tristan is a new addition to the Camelot knighthood, claiming common blood, but there's a way about him that makes Leon think he's a noble who walked away from his heritage. It's in the way he talks about servants - though he treats them well enough - and his ease among the court and council, when he's forced to put in an appearance.

Leon doesn't know what to think about a man who would abandon the responsibility of his birthright, though he tries not to judge, as he doesn't know the details. He suspects that Tristan's dead love, Isolde, might have played a part.

Isolde is the biggest problem Leon has with Tristan, in truth. It's been months since the woman's death, but Tristan's grief is unabated. He practices, he patrols, he eats, cleans his armour, grooms his horse, and little more than that. He doesn't know the names of all of his new brethren, cannot keep track of his duties without daily reminder, doesn't attend feasts or ceremonies. He wasn't present at the wedding and coronation, nor did Leon see him once in the subsequent week of festivities - not until it was his turn to ride out on patrol.

Tristan is as much a deadweight as an asset, but Leon cannot seem to impart this to him, no matter how many times he tries.

All things considered, whether or not Tristan knows of Merlin's magic is the least of Leon's worries about the man.

\- - -

Tristan knows Merlin has magic, but one way or another, he just can't bring himself to care.

He notes when Gwaine seems to catch on - the last of the lot, he thinks. It doesn't lead to violence, so it doesn't matter.

Very little matters in Tristan's world, these days.

\- - -  
\- - -

 

Why Merlin's along on this little sideshow of a trip, Gwaine's not sure. Arthur is in Camelot, worrying away at some new treaty or other, and no doubt making the most of the relative quiet afforded by the absence of his closest companions to... oh.

Gwaine hopes Arthur finally gets a chance to show his new queen a good time. He's been far too wrapped up in the political fallout of Morgana's coup since the wedding.

Merlin seems to relish the chance to be away, even as he frets that George can't possibly be a satisfactory replacement, no matter how perfectly trained. Gwaine figures he's just worried that something magical will attack Arthur in their absence.

They don't make an odd picture, to the outsider: Arthur's most trusted knights - Leon, Elyan, Percival, and Gwaine - with Merlin and some squires there to care for the pack horses and their loads, and Tristan dragging along because Leon doesn't seem to trust him on his own. They don't make an odd picture at all, but Gwaine knows better. The delivery of supplies to Camelot's newly-established lookout posts is not something that requires her best men, all together.

Arthur definitely had ulterior motives, sending them out here, Gwaine thinks.

They are in the foothills of the White Mountains, winding up toward a hollow where they plan to make camp for the night before pressing on to the new mountain garrison, when trouble finds them at last.

Elyan is the first to go down, riding on point, his attention too much on the chatter behind him. Gwaine barely has time to process what he sees - some invisible hand sweeping Elyan from the saddle, his horse spooking and darting forward, away - before Tristan is on the ground as well, and the others are whirling their horses about, trying to find the source of the attack. Gwaine chances a glance at Merlin, but their resident sorcerer looks as confused as anyone.

Leon's down now, too, their mounts are scattering, and one of the squires has actually fled, pulling a string of packhorses back down the path with him. The other string are tugging on Merlin's mare in a panic, pulling her off balance before Merlin finally has the presence of mind to cut them loose. Gwaine figures everyone's going to end up on the ground anyway, and dismounts, drawing his sword. Percy's doing the same, while another squire gets flung into a tree behind them. Their mounts scramble down the path, flinging clods of dirt as they go. Merlin's still up - the packhorses free and charging away - a hint of gold in his eyes, hand out in that warding gesture he has that must mean he's about to do magic.

"Teslin, go! Warn the lower outpost!" Leon shouts, staggering to his feet, and the last of the squires wheels his gelding and takes off. Gwaine scans the trees intently, but there's no hint of anyone or anything in the dappled shadows. None of the others are having better luck, and Leon barks, "Merlin? What do you see?"

Merlin promptly drops his hand, but as soon as he opens his mouth to answer, the force strikes out again, and Gwaine winces when his friend hits the dirt. Merlin's mare, predictably, takes off.

"Nothing," Merlin groans as he tries to sit up. Elyan gives him a hand, and soon they are all on their feet, backs to each other in a tight circle, facing... nothing. There is no sound but their harsh breathing, and, coming down the path, the sound of hooves. They barely have time to dive out of the way as Elyan's horse comes tearing by, herd instinct leading him to follow the others back into the valley.

"Wonderful," Gwaine says. "Just perfect." Keeping an eye out for trouble, he makes his way to the downed squire. "What's this lad's name again?" The boy is breathing, but unconscious, and Gwaine hopes his back didn't break when he hit the tree. It'll be a question of slow death versus quick, if that's the case, and little to be done for him, so far from the castle.

"Gareth," Merlin says, hurrying over. He's favoring his side, but looks generally unharmed.

While he's examining the boy, the knights regroup around them, waiting for another attack, but still there is nothing. They wait one minute, then another. The tension rises. Gareth moans, and wakes. Merlin asks him questions, softly - "What hurts? Can you move your feet?" - while glancing around intently, and still... nothing.

"What in the goddess' name?" Gwaine murmurs, getting impatient; one of the others snorts and mumbles something about pagans.

"What's wrong with the Old Religion?" Gwaine shoots back. "I don't see that new Roman one doing anybody any good."

"It's not Roman," Gareth mumbles, half-coherent, "It's Christian."

"Whatever," Gwaine says, shrugging.

"Silence!" Leon snaps

And still there is nothing.

Finally, just as Gwaine is debating flat-out asking Merlin if he senses any magic in the woods around them, Leon demands, "Merlin, could that have been a deadman's trap? Is it possible that there's nobody out there?"

Merlin startles, looks briefly panicked, and stammers, "I-I don't- er, maybe. Gaius told me once it's possible to do something like this, but..." He trails off, clearly trying to find a way to say that there's somebody out there without saying how he knows it.

The hesitation is enough for Leon, who says, "Keep your guard up, men. Can Gareth walk?"

"If he has to," Merlin says, obviously unhappy with the idea.

"He has to," Leon declares. "Get him up. Gwaine, help them."

Gwaine kneels next to Merlin, eyeing the prone squire skeptically. The boy does not look well enough to be sitting up, let alone fleeing an attack. "What if I carried him?" he asks.

"I can walk," Gareth protests. "Just help me up." He looks ill at the mere idea of rising, though.

Gwaine looks to Merlin, who shrugs. "Probably better for him to walk. It doesn't feel like he broke anything, and walking will keep him from getting too stiff..." He glances at Gareth. "If he can manage it."

"I can manage!" Gareth insists, trying to push himself upright. He barely gets his shoulders off the ground before the pain overtakes him, and he collapses, ash-gray with agony.

"Sure he didn't break anything?" Gwaine has to ask, but Merlin's already checking again, running his hands over the lad, feeling along his neck and ribs, turning him slightly to feel at his back.

"Bruising," he says shortly, "and torn muscles. He might lose feeling below his waist temporarily, if the swelling gets bad."

"What?" Gareth gets even paler at hearing that, and Merlin has to spend a few moments explaining that it might not happen, won't be permanent, and just generally talking the kid down from a panic.

Meanwhile, Leon hovers, impatient to be off. "If he has to be carried, carry him," he says finally, "but we have to move. If there's someone out there-"

"Then they'll catch us regardless," Merlin argues back. "They have magic!"

"Oh, by the gods!" Tristan erupts, "So do you! _Do_ something!"

Never in a lifetime would Gwaine have guessed that it would be Tristan - quiet, listless, mourning Tristan - who would finally break the silence about Merlin's secret... and the man's not done yet, not by half.

"We're under attack, that boy's in agony, and you just sit there and do _nothing_! What good's your fucking magic if you won't _help us_? What kind of a coward are you?!" Tristan's turned his back on the woods, his fury growing as he stalks toward Merlin, who seems to be trying desperately to maintain a façade of confusion. Beneath it, his own anger darkens his eyes, sharpens the angles of his face.

"Enough!" Leon roars, grabbing Tristan by the coif and yanking him to a standstill. "Shut your mouth or I'll strike you down!"

Tristan pulls out of his grasp and sneers, but he seems to realize that Leon is a man of his word, because he says nothing more.

The sudden silence is wretchedly uncomfortable. Gwaine and the others glance at each other knowingly, and Merlin's eyes dart between them all with something like realization. Only Gareth looks genuinely confused.

Finally, able to stand the awkwardness no longer, and wary of whatever's waiting for them in the trees, Gwaine says, "I won't let them lay a hand on you, Merlin, I swear. If you can help us out here, do it."

Merlin's startled gaze settles on Gwaine, and he's not shocked to see that there's fear in it, along with hope. It's the hint of betrayal that's surprising, but there's hardly time to worry about that now. Gwaine figures he'll do whatever apologizing he has to after they get themselves out of this mess. This isn't the moment to contemplate how much Merlin might have _wanted_ someone friendly to know.

"You've nothing to fear from me, Merlin," Elyan declares, and Gwaine watches Merlin flinch as he turns to Gwen's brother. "I know who you are. The Druid boy told me, the one from the well. I'll help you in any way I can."

This statement, confusing as it is to Gwaine, seems to give Merlin a bit of comfort, if the slight softening of his jaw is anything to go by. He stares at Elyan, assessing, before giving a faint, acknowledging nod. Elyan answers with a warm smile, and Gwaine can't help but feel a bit jealous. What the hell does Elyan know that he doesn't?

He doesn't get the chance to ask, because Leon says, "We know about the magic, Merlin. I swear on my honor, I won't allow you to be harmed because of it. Do you understand?"

Merlin looks skeptical, and rightly so, Gwaine thinks. Of them all, it's Leon he figures to hold the king's law above common sense and a man's undying loyalty. But Leon's surprised him before, and he does so again now. When Merlin asks, coldly cautious, "You don't think I'm a traitor to the kingdom?" Leon answers with grave honesty, "Merlin, _I'll_ turn traitor before you do."

This statement shocks them all to stillness, and that's the only reason Gwaine hears the unnatural rustling in the distance. Percy hears it to, and they turn as one in the direction of the noise. The others snap into action, the circle reforming around the downed Gareth, Merlin mumbling oddly-sounding words as Leon asks, "So what's really out there?"

Gareth gasps, and Gwaine turns to see Merlin's eyes glowing gold, his palm flat against the boy's sternum. "Steady, lad," Gwaine says. "He's only trying to help."

Merlin's done with the spell in the space of a heartbeat, and urging Gareth to his feet. "Don't try to fight, you're not strong enough - I rushed the healing. You should be able to run if you need to, though."

"Merlin?" Leon prompts, impatient now, and Merlin casts a glance at Gwaine.

"I'll watch him," Gwaine assures. Gareth looks pretty steady now, with a healthy glow to his brown cheeks, but if Merlin says he can't fight, Gwaine's not going to question it.

Merlin nods, edges into the circle next to Leon, and says, "Sorcerers. Two, maybe three."

"Can you fight them?" Leon asks. The peculiar rustling is audible over his voice now, a line of advance stretching east to west, coming onward steadily.

"I can fight them," Merlin says, short and matter-of-fact, as Leon waves to re-form their defenses. There's none of the nervous, joking air about him now, no doubt or hesitation.

"But can you win?" Tristan asks, more lively than Gwaine's ever heard him. The smirk in his voice is quite pronounced, and Gwaine guesses he probably looks as arrogant as Arthur ever has.

"I can win," Merlin says, coolly confident. "What's coming with them, though... You'll have to do your fair share, here, the lot of you."

"And what exactly is coming with them, my magical friend?" Gwaine asks, done with being kept in the dark for so long. Merlin has a mischievous, almost wicked sense of dramatic timing.

"Serkets," Merlin replies. He sounds... unenthused, Gwaine thinks is the word. Not excited or frightened, but resigned and displeased.

"Huh," Percy huffs. "Well, it's one more thing to add to the list."

"What list?" Elyan asks. He seems a little worried. Gwaine does not blame him in the least.

"The list of disturbing or ridiculous creatures that have tried to kill me over the years," Percy says. "Wyverns, wilddeoren, hydra, boar, and now serkets."

"Hydra?" Merlin echoes, inappropriately curious for this particular moment, if anyone were to ask Gwaine.

"Boar?" This from Leon, and a fair question, though perhaps best pursued at a later time.

"Two-headed boar," Percy clarifies. "I thought the one-headed kind were bad enough, but two heads... twice as many tusks, still runs just as fast."

Gwaine shudders in sympathy. "I assume you killed it."

"Wouldn't be here otherwise," Percy confirms, and then the serkets are upon them.

\- - -

Tristan fights like he hasn't in months, as much for the sheer joy of it as for the need to stay alive. His sword swings easily, unhindered by grief and guilt, and if there's a moment here and there where he expects a long braid in his peripheral vision, or warm skin instead of cold mail at his shoulder, well, that's the way it's going to be from now on.

He's suddenly on his way to accepting that.

The sorcerers are three in number, and seem little match for Merlin, but the serkets keep on coming. Tristan's cut the tails off of two already, but there's another stinger burying itself in the ground to his left, and pincers reaching for his head. It's a concerted effort just to hold one off, let alone try to kill it. The stinger-less ones are still in the thick of it, enraged, dripping black gore over everything.

Tristan's about decided to throw self-preservation to the wind - if he's going to die here, he's going to take one of these filthy things with him - when a fireball roars overhead, small but deadly, and curves neatly down to drive into the back of the serket he's facing. The creature spasms, legs stiffening, then crumples up like a dead spider, and starts to smolder. The smell, as of burning hair and rancid meat, is sweetly sickening. Tristan finds it hard not to gag as he turns to the next beast.

It's over quickly, now that Merlin's in the battle, fireballs and rocks careening through the air like a flock of deranged, deadly birds. Tristan and the others regroup around their sorcerer, keeping the serkets at bay while he strikes them down with the easy, economical movements of one who's done this sort of thing before.

Tristan's known almost since the beginning that Merlin used magic, but he had no idea that the boy was hiding _this_. A fellow could conquer castles with power like this.

In a way, Tristan thinks, Merlin already has. He just hasn't done it for himself.

As the last serket falls, Tristan hears a thump, and turns to see that Merlin's fallen to his knees. The man is obviously exhausted, but he's grinning ear to ear; he tilts his head back to take a deep breath, and barks out a ringing laugh. "By the gods!" he exclaims, "I haven't used so much magic in months!"

"Missed it, did you?" Gwaine asks, already sprawled on the ground, panting as hard as any of them.

"You have no idea," Merlin says with a sigh.

They rest for a few moments, while their hearts slow and the fire drains from their blood, but in short order Leon asks, "What of the sorcerers?"

This deflates Merlin's mood instantly. "Caught. What do you want to do with them?" Tristan wonders if the other man wishes he'd let them go when he had the chance. Whatever his loyalty to Camelot, he can't enjoy watching his kind executed - though, to be fair, Arthur hasn't actually had anyone executed for sorcery yet, much as he's raged about magic.

"Take them back to Camelot," Leon says, as if it should be obvious. He's not looking at Merlin, though - something in the trees has caught his attention. Tristan follows his gaze, and has to laugh at the squire who clings precariously to the upper limbs of a young oak.

"Can you please get me down?" the lad calls.

A chorus of laughter bursts out, a relief and release from the tension of the fight, and Tristan shouts, "How the devil did you get up there, boy?"

He expects that Merlin put the squire up there somehow, and is surprised when Gwaine says, amidst the laughter, "I've found that climbing trees is an effective strategy against many enemies."

"Sir Gwaine!" the squire pleads, and Gwaine makes to rise from where he's sprawled, obviously taking pity on the lad.

Before he gets to his feet, though, Merlin's extending an arm, and calling, "Gareth, can I?"

Gareth frowns, looks about, as if for other options, squints at Gwaine for a moment - weighing the chances of a painless descent, Tristan thinks - then nods. "You won't drop me?"

"I promise I won't," Merlin says, and then the squire's floating gently, gently down to the ground. He lands like a feather, tests his footing, and then laughs.

"Thank you, Merlin!" he says with a slight bow, and Tristan is perplexed by these people all over again, this kingdom where high-born squires bend their backs to common servants.

He wonders how it would have been, if he and Isolde had met Arthur and his men in peacetime.

He's not sure it would have made a difference. Isolde had never been one to avoid a just fight.

\- - -

Elyan feels almost privileged, having witnessed so much of Merlin's magic. He's awed by it, humbled all over again by the power that Merlin wields in such selfless service to Camelot. To Arthur. Now, watching Gareth lowered carefully from the tree, and seeing the honest joy and gratitude in his reaction, Elyan begins to really believe that magic - that _Merlin_ \- will come to be accepted and honored in Camelot.

Long before any of that can happen, though, there are horses to catch, squires to find, and enemy sorcerers to deal with. Elyan has his own ideas about how to approach all three of these problems, but he's gotten used to taking direction rather than working on his own, so he turns to Leon, expectant.

Leon is asking about the sorcerers again, where Merlin's put them, and how secure they are. Merlin points a little ways up the hill, and Elyan sees three figures slumped against the trees there, all clearly unconscious. Leon heads over, Merlin beside him; Elyan follows. The other rouse themselves from their rest and trail after, weapons still drawn, stepping nimbly around the carcasses of the serkets.

The sorcerers are a sorry sight, bloody and pale, their clothing and skin singed. With Merlin at his back, Leon checks that each is unconscious. When he rises from the third man, he says, gently but plainly, "This one's dead."

Merlin takes this news with a nod and a sigh. "Do you want me to wake the others?" While he's not pleased about the death, he's not nearly as upset as might be expected, and Elyan understands that it's not the first time Merlin's killed someone. That doesn't sit comfortably with Elyan, even with all he knows of Emrys and his power. Merlin doesn't look like a man who should be used to killing.

Leon considers Merlin's question. "Do they know you're the sorcerer among us?"

"Yes," Merlin says. "Far too late to hide that. They knew even before the serkets reached us."

"Then we've no way to hide your magic from the king," Leon says, worried, glancing around the small group. "Unless one of you has an idea?"

"Kill them," Tristan says immediately. "If you take them back to Camelot, they'll die anyway. Get it over with now, quick and clean."

Merlin looks a little nauseated at this, which is more like the man Elyan's familiar with, and Leon is none too pleased, either. "They have not been tried," he says sharply. "We cannot just murder them."

Tristan snorts. "You really differentiate between murder and execution? There are seven of us here, if you want to try them. We're all familiar with their crimes but not willing to condemn them just on their magic. More than enough to make the decision, and fairly."

Leon actually considers this for a few moments, but when he speaks, it's to say, "No. It's not our place. It is the king's decision."

"The king's burden," Tristan corrects, looking at Merlin, and Elyan's startled to see how well he's got their sorcerer figured out. Elyan hadn't thought the man had been paying that much attention.

But Merlin shakes his head. "Arthur would not be pleased if we took this upon ourselves. It is his right to decide who lives or dies for crimes against Camelot. How is he to trust us if we start to judge for him?"

Tristan scowls, but the others seem in agreement. Loathe as Elyan is to take these men back to Camelot (for Merlin's sake, far more than Arthur's), he feels the same way.

Gwaine clears his throat, and when attention turns to him, offers, "We could let them go."

There's a wary silence that turns rapidly contemplative, questioning glances traded all around, but again, Leon and Merlin dissent. "It's the same thing," Merlin says, even though it's obvious that he likes this plan. "We'd be making the judgment for him."

"Unless there are other ideas," Leon declares, "we tie them up and take them with us."

Resigned silence meets this pronouncement, but as Leon opens his mouth to give the order, there's another cleared throat. "We could... tie them up loosely," Gareth offers, from off to the side. "And if they should happen to-"

"Stop," Leon says, hand rising in warning, and Gareth falls silent, ducking his head. "Tie them up. Be sure they are comfortable. _Very_ comfortable," he stresses, meeting the eyes of each man in the group with brows raised, as if to ask, _Is my meaning clear?_

Gwaine grins and shoves off the tree he's been leaning against, clapping a surprised Gareth on the shoulder. "The horses ran off with all the rope. We'll have to use some scraps of tunic."

"I'm sure it will suffice," Leon says blandly. "Get to it. Merlin, a word?"

Merlin, looking cautiously hopeful, follows Leon away while Gwaine, Gareth and Percival get to work tearing up bits of the prisoners' tunics, and take a belt off the dead man. Elyan can't hear what's said, but both men come back looking satisfied, so he counts it to the good.

There's some debate about what to do with the body, until Merlin, with a wave of his hand, directs the rocks that dot the ground to form a cairn over it.

Elyan pulls a few strips from his own tunic and, in the Druid manner, marks the overhanging trees in warning.

\- - -

Percy carries one of the sorcerers, and Gwaine the other, as the company heads downhill to look for the missing horses and squires. The unconscious man weighs too little for his height, and Percy can feel his bones through his ragged clothing. At his back, Gwaine mutters occasional complaints in the same vein. Percy wonders if maybe it was desperation, not vengeance, that drove the attack.

Leon sets a moderate pace, not dawdling, but not hurrying, either. He's feeling the fight as much as any of them, Percy suspects. The older knight is favoring his left shoulder, and there's a raw gash across the back of his neck that Merlin's already asked after twice.

"It'll keep, Merlin," Leon had replied the first time, and "It's nothing! Leave it!" the second. Percy thinks maybe Leon had a close call there, and is trying to forget it - or remember it, so he doesn't get too full of himself. That's Leon's style, in most things, even if he is a bit of a blood-bound, noble snob when he thinks nobody's paying attention.

Percy's rather impressed at Leon's trust in Merlin, especially after that rather astounding display of power. Now Percy knows that they're a lucky, lucky bunch of bastards, in the sense that it's lucky Merlin's on their side. The man's obviously been at this magic thing for a while, and wields it in battle as naturally as Percy wields a sword, cool and collected and utterly devastating. At the same time, he's eager to use it to heal, and to make life easier where, perhaps, it has little right to be.

Percy's not surprised that Merlin showed so little reaction to the third sorcerer's death. He's starting to form a picture of what really befell Agravaine - a picture with black hair and blue-gold eyes.

He wonders, too, how many chores Merlin does with magic when nobody's around.

He thinks it's quite a few.

\- - -

The muscles of Leon's left shoulder feel like they've been flayed with a knife, and the gash on the back of his neck burns maddeningly, but he doesn't give in to Merlin's offers of aid. If he lets Merlin heal him, he must allow everyone else the same privilege, and the men cannot come back from a battle with sorcerers and serkets looking like they've just been tussling in the dirt.

Especially not if Leon means to follow through with young Gareth's suggestion.

It doesn't exactly sit well with him, allowing the sorcerers to escape, but Leon had sworn on his honor that he would protect Merlin, and, long before that, Camelot. The king would not have his servant executed, should he learn of the magic, but he would most assuredly have Merlin banished, which Leon believes a completely unsound strategy, particularly in light of the sheer power Merlin obviously possesses. Leon is alive because of magic, has seen the usefulness of it as often as its evils, has no doubt of Merlin's loyalty... He cannot see Merlin as anything other than an asset, but Arthur's distrust of magic, and the betrayals he's suffered by those closest to him, will blind him to the truth.

Leon means to protect all of Camelot to the best of his abilities, and if that means 'accidentally' losing a pair of defeated, weakened sorcerers, so be it.

Merlin says he can alter the men's memories, if he can recover the ingredients in his saddlebag. They will not remember the details of the battle, only their escape; Merlin's involvement should be a haze. The knights' apparent incompetence in securing their prisoners, Leon can blame on magic; what tales the sorcerers will tell to that end is out of anyone's control. The plan is not foolproof, but sound enough.

Leon loves Camelot enough to chance it.

What Leon does not love is a cowardly squire, so of course that's the one they come upon first. Montag had been the one to bolt, taking half the horses with him and causing the rest to lose what little sense they had. Now they find him sprawled near the trail, conscious but obviously hurt, and his mount looking miserable, holding one leg off the ground. The packhorses are nowhere to be seen.

Merlin looks torn between which to attend first, the horse or the boy, but Leon points him in the right direction; Elyan goes to catch the horse.

Leon stands over Montag as Merlin examines him, and says nothing. The lad looks a cross between shamefaced and defiant, and tries to stammer out some asinine explanation for his actions. Merlin doesn't even twitch at the mention of evil magic, just goes on with his task until Montag snaps, "Enough! You're hurting me! Has Gaius taught you nothing in all these years?"

Merlin leans back at that, and says to Leon, "His leg's broken, and a few ribs. Some bruising, too. If we find my horse, I can give him something for the pain, but there's nothing for it now except to splint the leg and bind his chest." He looks at Montag with what Leon knows to be false sympathy, and finishes, "I'm afraid it will hurt quite a bit."

Montag scowls, and Leon says, "Get it done. Do you need an assistant?"

Merlin shrugs. "It would help." He gets up and heads for the injured horse. "Maybe there's something useful in his pack. Elyan, how is she?"

Leon would normally frown upon such dismissive behavior, typical though it is of Merlin when the sorcerer feels wronged, but he's furious with Montag, and he thinks the boy ought to understand the gravity of his actions in every possible way. He'd fled cravenly from an attack, causing further panic among the mounts and making the situation worse. In his fear, he'd been careless with his horse - one of the king's horses, in fact, as Montag's own mare is due to foal - and caused it to be injured. Now he's snapping at the king's manservant, at the physician's assistant, and whatever else Merlin might or might not be, there is common courtesy due to one who holds either of those positions, let alone both. Leon expects this in particular from any man who hopes to wear Camelot red. Whatever a man's personal feelings, Leon will not approve him to be knighted if he treats those below him with contempt.

Montag is silent under Leon's glare, cowed for the moment, so Leon turns to survey the others. Percival and Gwaine have lain down their prisoners, and sunk to the ground to rest. Tristan is keeping watch, more alert than Leon can remember him being until today's battle. Elyan is holding the injured horse, while Gareth and Merlin fuss over her leg. Merlin is on his knees, while Gareth...

It's really a wonder that Merlin still has his head attached, Leon thinks, as he watches Gareth shuffle over so as to hide what Merlin's doing. Using magic on a horse! The lad's got a sense of self-preservation, but no _common_ sense to go with it.

Still, Montag is sulking and looking the other way, and the mare is not entirely sound when Merlin rises to declare, "Not as bad as it looked. She's just a little sore," so Leon supposes there's no harm done. She is quite a nice horse. It would have been a shame to put her down.

Merlin is rifling through Montag's pack, but there doesn't seem to be much of use other than an overcoat. He pulls that out, unties the bedroll, and brings them back to Leon. "If I cut up the bedroll, we can use it to bind his injuries."

"What about the coat?" Montag asks, wary, as if he expects Merlin to say that it needs to be ruined, as well.

"You're cold," Merlin says, kneeling to drape the thing over Montag, and tuck it close. "I'll only cut up the bedroll."

"Give it here," Leon says, with a pointed look at Montag. "I'll help you." He wouldn't, usually, but he's trying to prove a point to the boy. He knows he won't put Montag's name in for knighting this year, or the next. Montag will have to redeem himself before Leon even considers it.

They make quick work of the bedroll, and Gareth finds them some stout, straight sticks for the splint. Before they begin, Leon asks Montag, "Did you see Teslin come through here?"

Montag nods, casting uneasy glances at where Merlin's breaking the sticks to the correct length. "He came by, and all the other horses, too. He stopped to check on me, but... but he said he'd been ordered to raise the alarm, and couldn't do anything to help."

"He did as he should have," Leon says. "Do you understand your failings?"

"Yes, sir," the squire mutters, but he does not sound as repentant as Leon would like. Well, there are plenty lining up for a chance at the knighthood, nobles and commoners alike. If Montag does not make an effort, Leon will find someone to replace him. The miller's son shows great promise; the gods know _he's_ a modest and determined sort.

Yes, when they return to Camelot, Leon will be sure to speak to Galahad.

\- - -

Gareth is embarrassed for Montag on some level, but mostly, he's embarrassed _by_ him. They are cousins, and have known each other since childhood, though Gareth has never been particularly proud to associate with the other squire. Montag is... not what a knight of Camelot should be. He is good with a sword, yes, but his attitude and bearing are too haughty. A knight, Gareth has been taught, should be confident, humble, and kind. Montag is arrogant and pretentious, with gentle words only for those near to or above his station; he cares little for the common people who are the foundation of the kingdom. He is also, it has come to pass, something of a coward.

Montag is hanging between Sir Elyan and Merlin as the group makes its way down to the valley. The two men have contrived a sort of chair-like hold with their linked arms, which appears comfortable enough for Montag, but makes for terribly slow going. It is tiring, too, and forces frequent stops so that the two men can rest their arms and stretch their backs.

Sirs Percival and Gwaine are still carrying the sorcerers, one of whom is drifting in and out of consciousness, causing Merlin to cast him anxious glances. Sir Leon is on point, and Sir Tristan has the rear guard. Gareth trails along just behind Sir Gwaine, leading Amaranth, who is, thanks to Merlin, much improved from the sorry condition in which they'd found her.

Gareth is astounded by what he's learned today, and feels awed to be included in the secret. Merlin has magic! Merlin, the king's longtime manservant, is stronger than three sorcerers put together. Merlin is trusted enough that King Arthur's best knights are willing to protect him to the outer limits of their honor.

Merlin is the sort of sorcerer that Gareth's parents had told stories about on long winter evenings, their hushed whispers almost drowned out by the crackling of the fire, because no matter what King Uther said, they knew the truth about magic, and were determined to pass it on to Gareth and his sister.

Magic is all around, they'd said, in every living thing. No matter what religion you follow, no matter which god you pray to, you'll not escape magic in Albion any more than you'll escape sunshine, or rain. There are people who can use magic, they'd whispered, for good purposes and wicked. It's not the magic that's evil, it's the person who wields it. Magic is as a sword, or a hammer, or needle and thread. It decimates and it builds, it wounds and heals; it is part of the balance of the world.

Gareth had been raised on stories of priests and priestesses of magic, of marvelous and terrifying mystic creatures, of guardians of the woods and streams and beasts of the world. Why do we live in Camelot? he'd asked. Why do we serve this king who would see all magic destroyed?

His parents had drawn their children close, and murmured, There is said to be a boy, a little older than you two. He has magic, he _is_ magic, and he is destined to bring both Camelot and magic to their finest glory. He will stand side by side - heart to soul - with a golden king, and by their hands, all of Albion will be united.

Who is the golden king? Gareth had wanted to know. When will he come?

He is already here, dearest. You've met him. He's Prince Arthur.

Gareth has seen Merlin fight for Camelot today - for her knights and their honor and the trust of their king. He is certain to his very core that Merlin must be the boy, a little older than Gareth - the boy who is magic, and stands heart to soul with King Arthur.

Camelot's halcyon days are nearing, and Gareth will see such wondrous deeds done as even his parents never dreamed of.

This is going to be the best story _ever_.

-end-


End file.
